Sloane's POVThe structural data feeds for the West African transport corridor locked into their absolute baseline values at exactly forty-five minutes past four o'clock. The internal environment of the penthouse suite remained fixed at an immaculate eighteen degrees Celsius, completely rejecting the heavy, dust-laden harmattan air that had rolled in over the central business district. I sat perfectly rigid at the obsidian console, my column gown of midnight-navy silk falling in flawless, unwrinkled lines to the floor, the family emeralds reflecting a cool, green fire against the dark stone table.To my right, Knox remained standing like an unyielding monolith of absolute alpha dominance, his broad-shouldered frame casting a long, commanding shadow across the polished white marble."The northern infrastructure grids have initialized their primary encryption loops, Sloane," Knox murmured, his deep, velvety baritone carrying a low, gravelly vibration of absolute satisfaction as he looke
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